


A Hallmark Movie Christmas

by buckytheplumsoldier



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Christmas, Fluff, M/M, Superfamily, Superhusbands, Young Peter Parker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-21
Updated: 2018-06-21
Packaged: 2019-05-26 06:31:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14994878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buckytheplumsoldier/pseuds/buckytheplumsoldier
Summary: In which 7 years of Peter's life are now a lie.





	A Hallmark Movie Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> Ahh! So I've been a fan of Marvel since around 2014, but only just rediscovered everything this past April, what with the Infinity War buzz and such. Needless to say, I've fallen down a deep, dark pit. This is my first Marvel thing I've ever done and I open to all kinds of criticism, especially characterization and keeping the personalities of the characters intact. Anyways, thank you so much for reading!

If this was a true _Hallmark_ Christmas movie, there wouldn't just be the strings of tinsel, a beautiful and extremely extravagant tree, freshly baked cookies, and a glass of warm milk sitting on the kitchen island. No, there would be so much more; Steve and Tony discussing the meaning of their relationship over mugs of hot cocoa, Peter getting a dream trip to Disneyland, and everyone having a jolly ol' time before some catastrophe came about like the tree lighting on fire or whatever. The weather outside would sure be frightful, though the cliches would come at a tie between snowflakes gently fluttering beyond the horizon or a full blizzard with racing winds tearing across the city.

This, however, wasn't a _Hallmark_ movie and the best Steve and Tony could do was to fight over just how warm a glass of milk should be as the views from Stark Tower displayed the average peek into the night-life of New York City.

"It literally feels like it came straight out of a cow's tit." Tony smacked his lips in distaste, frowning as he set the glass back down.

"Isn't that kind of the point? Milk is supposed to taste like it's straight from a cow."

Tony sighed. "There's a difference between cold milk that nicely goes down your throat and this warm-ass chunky lava." He gestured to the cup with his thumb, eyeing it as if it were a roach or something equally as disgusting.

It was at this point Peter had decided to slide off of his seat on the couch, _Elf_ playing on the screen now without an audience. He took his own empty glass of milk from the coffee table and clambered over to the two, peering up at them with cookie crumbs littering his face.

"The plate?" Steve raised a brow.

Peter pouted and sighed, going back to the couch, getting the empty plate covered with crumbs and bits of chocolate, and returning. He stood on the tips of his toes to place the dish into the sink, the sound of clattering porcelain making Tony stiffen and wince. Peter rushed over to Steve and Tony, Tony ruffling his hair with a proud (ish) grin. It then almost seemed like a light bulb popped over his head, and Tony smirked at the man before him before turning to his son.

"Pete, buddy, can I ask you a question?" Peter glanced up at him, brown eyes replicating the same curiosity and interest Tony knew he had himself at that age. His calloused fingers played around in his Peter's soft hair, feeling each and every strand under his palm.

"You just did, dad."

Tony frowned. Of course his son had to develop some kind of wit from being around his dad for so long. He inhaled, practicing whatever sleep and peace-inducing methods JARVIS had made him run through a million times over. "Okay, well, can I ask you another?"

"You just did again." Peter said it as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, the simplest concept that any person well over seven years of age could understand.

Tony turned to Steve, who was trying his damned hardest to hold in a laugh, resulting in Tony narrowing his eyes. "Oh my god, I might kill myself." He glanced at Peter, who, too, was stifling some giggles. "Alright then, Pete, can I ask you a question after this one?"

Peter nodded his head vigorously, curls bouncing. That seemed to be the correct answer.

"How warm should milk be?"

"What?" Peter tilted his head and scrunched up his nose. It was reasonable - any child of Tony's would gawk at such a weird yet simple question, one that's kind of never recieved a vocal answer. As Peter still frowned at him like he was growing another head, Tony shook it off and reached for the glass in the hopes of better demonstrating something.

"Here, try this. It's for Santa." He handed the still full glass to Peter, leaning in and whispering, "Your Papa's a lunatic. He thinks this tastes okay." Tony could practically hear Steve rolling his eyes, yet remained hopeful that his son would have more of a mind than the blonde.

Peter took a sip from the cup, immediately scrunching his face and sticking his tongue out.

Tony shrugged, clasping his hands together, and looked at Steve. "What'd I tell ya? The kid's a genius."

Peter blushed, smile proud and wide. It always warmed Tony's heart to see his son yearn to feel the least bit loved or approved in some way, to know that he's doing alright. Tony himself never had that at Peter's age, someone to turn to or impress or make proud. Peter needed that, needed someone to guide him along the blinded path, if and when needed to, someone to read him stories at night about what the world could be or what Peter could make the world be.

God, this was his child, and it just rang over and over again in Tony's ears of how damn proud he is of his kid, of how proud he is of this family he's established without any real experience on how an actual family worked. Sure, the domesticity was getting to him and definitely has softened him up the past few years that he and Steve had had Peter, but who could Tony really blame when he had beautiful brown doe eyes so like his own gazing up at him full of wonder and things the kid didn't understand yet.

Steve rolled his eyes, yet again, and scoffed, breaking Tony out of his trance. "You're unbelievable."

Peter shoved the glass into Steve's hands, the milk sloshing around against the sides. "Yet here you are, loving me so."

Tony couldn't help but crack the smallest of smiles, the smallest window into the view of everything seemingly being okay. This was his new life, he decided, staring at the man he'd only known for a few years, yet was all Tony had ever known at this point. His gaze was broken by a quiet yawn coming from beside Tony. Peter, eyes now slightly pinkish and heavily lidded, smacked his lips and gazed at the two of them.

"You tired already, kiddo?" Tony looked behind him to check the clock. "It's only ten." Normally, Tony wouldn't normally condone Peter sleeping past even eight, but this was a special occasion and it only seemed fair to let Peter get what he wanted at least today.

"Yeah, but I gotta go to sleep or else Santa won't come. Remember?"

As if almost on instinct, Steve and Tony shared a brief look. They had had the past six Christmases down on lock - Peter would go sleep before midnight, the two would wait at least an hour to make sure the boy was really asleep and not peeking from his "secret spot" at the stairwell, and then they would gather all of Peter's presents stashed in the coat closet and hurriedly place them neatly under the tree. They made sure that at least a select few of Peter's presents had "Santa" written on the tag in neat script, while the rest had either "Dad" or "Papa" written rather messily, as well as presents from various other members of the team.

Tony's own parents didn't necessarily believe in stories like Santa and the Easter Bunny (or at least Howard didn't), so this was Tony's own way of manifesting the childhood both he and Steve never really had. He wanted Peter to live through the horrible clichés of resenting his parents for the rest of his life because of some lies in the form of mythical creatures and fairy tales. He wanted Peter to really believe that reindeer dropped down on the landing out front, lugging a sleigh with all the presents his son could ever want. God, he wanted it so badly.

Perhaps it was Tony trying to break the chain of his compressed innocence and relive all of this with his child-like demeanor that was still tucked away under his collar. On the other hand, for all he knew, it could just be the warmth that ignited in his belly when he watched Peter unravel and unwrap all sorts of bows and snowman-patterned wrapping paper. After all, Tony's been called many things, and nostalgic has not been one of them.

Steve turned back to Peter, nodding his head and holding out his hand. "C'mon, kiddo. I'll brush your teeth and tuck you in while your dad gets the milk and cookies ready."

"If he lets Santa drink that bad stuff then I don't think I trust him with that," Peter grumbled, being led away to his room with Steve's large hand and broad figure showing him the way.

"No way would I let him give Santa that awful stuff, scout's honor," was the last Tony heard before the two rounded the corner and disappeared further into the penthouse.

It made Tony emotional, and Tony was never one to clearly understand his own mind, much less be able to display whatever went on in there, but the tight-knit rope squeezing around his heart was enough to get him to smile just the least bit as he turned back to the kitchen counter and reached for a plate in the cupboard.

He sure as hell won't let his family and his life crumble away like the crumbs from the chocolate chip cookies right in front of him. It would have to be over his dead body.

***

Tony and Steve were knelt around the brightly lit tree, the colored bulbs still blinking in an automatic pattern Tony had set years prior, where the colors responded in rainbow order, just like Peter had wanted when he was learning his colors and their names. It was the same systematic repeat of red, orange, yellow, and so on for as long as Tony could see straight. He attempted to keep his focus and his eyes downwards on the presents that still needed to be organized and placed in neat piles underneath the needle-like leaves.

"Do you think one day we should actually get him a spider?" Tony bit the inside of his cheek as he looked up at Steve who was straightening a pile of three or so presents.

Peter had wanted a spider since the day he could talk. He had some sort of unearthly fascination with the creepy crawlies, one that both Steve and Tony had begun to tolerate for the past few years. Tony didn't know what had sparked this sudden interest, nor what would end it, but he was starting to get tired (and rather terrified, though he's not admitting that) of the countless spiders he refused to kill so as to not send Peter into a whirling tantrum. Christmas after Christmas and birthday after birthday flew by where Peter whined, cried, punched Tony's knee, or did all three in the hopes of getting his own terrarium (tarantula included), though it never happened. Steve would give him the same run-down of just why they couldn't have a spider in Stark Tower, though the excuses were just for the sake of Steve and Tony's own bearings.

Steve sat up, spine popping after being hunched over for so long. "Maybe when he's old enough to watch Titanic without having to cover his eyes."

Tony huffed, setting down the Sharpie in his hand and reaching back to grab another present, this one from Pepper to Peter. The text was typed in a neat font, script and elegant, and Tony had to practically tear his eyes off of it. "That could essentially be never. We both know that you will always make sure his eyes are covered during _those_ scenes."

It went back and forth with useless and stupid banter, reminding them of the older days when they first met and the insults actually injured their shield of pride with dents It seemed like some sort of strange and bewildered fantasy, the fact that they used to utterly despise each other only did so much but tell a good bedtime story for Peter, who giggled on and on with every witty or snarky comment made.

What the two didn't realize through their own reminiscing was that it was a few minutes past midnight. What they didn't realize was that Peter had woken up, a bit quenched from the awful-tasting milk he had unfortunately had a few hours beforehand. What they didn't realize was that Peter had already made his way down the hallway, making sure not to make contact with the parts of the floorboards that creaked all-too loudly.

By then it was too late when Tony heard an extremely audible gasp come from behind him.

***

Tony was only becoming increasingly more irritated with Peter. A screaming child banging on whatever surfaces he could reach at the dead of Christmas morning was something he didn't need and something that his lack of caffeine couldn't handle. God, it really did break Tony's heart watching his kid cry like that, having his mind absolutely blown to shreds and everything he ever thought he knew was now suddenly all a lie.

Steve was trying his hardest to corral the damn kid with reason and rational actions, like a true soldier, but it wasn't enough to suffice. Peter had fallen into that wormhole of fairy tales and he had fallen hard.

"Peter, please, you gotta listen to me. You gotta stop running around - " There was an audible crash as one of Tony's - Pepper's - prized vases crashed into bits and pieces on the ground and Steve's attempts at herding the wild lamb failed yet again. "Peter, I understand you're very upset - Peter, please don't touch that -, and you're mad and sad but you have to listen to us first." Steve was only met with another crash and Peter screaming a chorus of "You liars!".

Tony couldn't watch this anymore.

"There comes a time when -"

"The world is a shithole, okay, kid?"

Peter froze, eyes red and puffy, though blown wide as he listened to his father curse so audibly in front of him. Tony could tell Steve was about ready to give him some sort of moral lecture as soon as this night was over, but the steadfast posture Tony carried as of then needed to be seen.

"Tony - "

"And it's either you shit on it or you get shit on."

Tony knelt before a whimpering Peter, his lower lip still quivering though the streaming river of tears had dried up long ago. "Nothing you see or hear will ever be true. Yeah, sometimes it dicks you over this far and you really think you know something. Trust me kid, you don't, and this is just a step into that dark, twisted, screwed up world you'll have to be a part of." Tony paused, waiting for some sort of reaction, some nod or a scream that either accepted or denied his words. Instead, he got nothing, just a deep gaze of hazel brown eyes just like his own, trying to figure out if even that was true or not.

He sighed. "If you go to sleep right now, I'll give you ice cream for breakfast."

" _Tony!_ "

That seemed to be enough, as Tony pressed a quick kiss to Peter's forehead, who nodded vigorously and ran into his room. Ice cream to kids was money to greedy adults and it worked just the same, only without the actual valuable comparison behind it. Yes, it wasn't exactly the most accepted method of parenting, but, goddammit, Tony was tired and all he wanted was to fucking sleep.

He stood, dusting off his hands and considering it a job-well done.

"If he starts cursing now because of you, I promise I will strangle you."

"See, you would, but you know I'd like that," Tony quipped, casual smirk now plastered on his face. "I just hope this all blew his brain to bits , he doesn't remember this at all, and he still thinks Santa's real in the morning."

Steve shook his head, arms crossed and a smile regrettably forming. "You're unbelievable."

Tony tore his eyes away from Steve's bulging biceps practically protruding through his thin, cotton shirt and settled instead on the tree in the lounge, bulbs still blinking in that fucking color order. "Yet here you are, loving me so."


End file.
